


The Record May Have Stopped But My Love Never Will

by zcnitzu



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Bedrooms, Body Worship, But like its cute, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Harold They're Lesbians Meme, I cooed while writing this, Making Out, Mentioned Will Byers - Freeform, Scratching, Whole Lotta Love, loving relationship, mentioned mike wheeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zcnitzu/pseuds/zcnitzu
Summary: It’s here. In this dingy old room with dingy old posters and a dingy old dresser, that is home. But in Max’s arms... that’s where she feels like she belongs.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	The Record May Have Stopped But My Love Never Will

_"Love has nothing to do with what_ _you are expecting to get—_ _only with what you are expecting to give—_ _which is everything. What you will receive in return varies. But it really has no connection with what you give. You give because you love and cannot help giving.”_

_**Katharine Hepburn** _

* * *

Long fingernails scratch along her arm, wispy touches that feel like they aren’t even there but yet one of the best things to receive; the kind where you ask for more and more and each time their fingernails so much as dust over the area goosebumps follow in its wake.

Jane does it again. Her fingers go up and down, circling the wrist, mindless shapes drawn on the white colored skin, then letting her fingers crawl their way up to her girlfriend’s palm where she interlocks their fingers, a small, very small, smile on her face as she stares at the interlinked hands. 

They mesh well together. Dainty fingers with more stubbier ones because that’s just genes but Jane doesn’t mind because she’s in love with Max. In love with her best friend who‘s her girlfriend. She’s the girl who she gets to kiss in the darkness of the shadows, _the ugly side of Hawkins_ , as the close-minded town would say.

She’s the girl who Jane gets to hug every morning without it being suspicious because that’s what girls do. She’s the girl who gets to keep every secret Jane has, that melds together to form who Jane is now in this very moment. And Jane gets to do the same; hold a sacred part of Max, something that is very fragile and it’s something that she plans to keep protected and cared for because that’s what she deserves.

The kisses they share are languid and slow, smooth and with rhythm like their favorite song. The touches they share and the price payed for those actions are memories on the bed they lay on and paintings of their ever growing relationship forever a piece in their built museum. 

Tanned skin gets invaded as the kissing delves into something more. Markings of the conqueror held as a claim of ownership over the other. Fingers tantalizing the skin, hovering just above the arm but still out of reach. They travel upwards, ghosting the trail they decided to take. They gently caress the nape of her neck, soft and pliant. The baby hairs stand up on end and Jane shivers, eliciting a quiet giggle out of the woman above her. 

Jane sighs in the quiet and the record Max picked out from her limited vinyls has long since stopped but neither really care because to them, it’s still playing. In their own little bubble that has no demogorgon, no Upside Down, no Hawkins, and best of all, no boys. It’s just them. Max and Jane. Jane and Max. These two, laying on a bed too soft and too comfortable for either of their liking in the small confined room that Jane Hopper lives in. 

The posters strewn along the wall above the bed, mismatched and hand me downs given to Jane from Jonathan; bands like Queen to artists like David Bowie, neither of which Jane listens to- or at least not frequently. But she keeps them up anyway because Jonathan gave them to her and gifts from him tend to have the most meaning.

Maybe, Jane thinks as a butterfly’s touch reaches her neck making her gasp, he figured it out. That she is like Will, who’s currently out of the house with his best friend, who is also her ex. That she likes the same gender. That the thought of dating men is repulsive but she gave it a shot anyway because Mike liked her that way. Or maybe he didn’t. Who is she to know anyways? Jane doesn’t live in the teen’s head. That boy was probably just projecting because Will was gone. But that was then, and here is now. 

Now, she has Max. Who she knows isn’t projecting. Who she doesn’t have to feel skeptical about because there’s no sign of hesitance, no sign of repulsion when Jane comes in to kiss her, lips or otherwise. All there is is adorance, shining in her eyes and displayed in her actions.

Max’s hands are wanderers. Exploring the unknown that is Jane’s body and mapping out each atom, each beauty mark with each journey. Again and again and again. But Jane can’t complain, not because she doesn’t love it (she does), but because her hands are the same. Built with the need to know and explore. Like a Nomad. Traveling from location to location, no real place to call home. And while her hands may have no place, Jane does.

It’s here. In this dingy old room with dingy old posters and a dingy old dresser, that is home. But in Max’s arms... that’s where she feels like she belongs.

The hand on her neck has long since moved and together they crawl up Jane’s sides, curling their way around her hips, leaving scorch marks underneath, and resting at the small of her back, heat building up from the palms and Jane wills her hands to travel into Max’s hair. Her fingers splay out and with enough mustered up strength, they push Max’s head down on her stomach, and she starts to twirl the frayed strands of the strawberry colored hair between the pads of her index and thumb.

Max blows a raspberry at the sudden change and it’s Jane’s turn to giggle. Max readjusts herself; her arms hugging Jane’s waist tighter and she angles her head so her chin isn’t digging in to her stomach when she looks up at the brunette. Jane lets go of Max’s hair and smiles, light and soft and innocent; even though the shit they been through is anything but. Max only hugs her tighter.

Jane’s hands rest on Max’s forearms, fingers tapping one after another. Max closes her eyes and a smile blossoms on her pretty pink lips. It’s quite a scene, not one you expect from the skater and that only wants Jane to steal a camera and photograph this candid moment; hang it up with the other photos she stuck in her dresser mirror.

Max mumbles something in to her stomach and Jane exhales, amusement shining in her caramel irises. Max raises her head and her hair falls over her face like a curtain; her girlfriend takes it upon herself to move it. Jane’s fingers card through the orange locks and in return her prize is a smile from the freckled teen.

“Jane...” Her name was drawled out, a whisper of a word meant for Jane and Jane alone. Max moves her hands, caressing the skin and leaving little gifts of her love as she comes to push herself forward and rest her hands above the clasp of Jane’s bra.

“Kiss?” Max puckers up her lips in a disgustingly cute manner and Jane laughs, pushing her face away with her palm, feeling the lips form into a grin. They’re both laughing now, the mood now gone. Max’s laugh fall into Jane’s stomach once more, making the other laugh harder, tears sprouting in the corner of her eyes. 

“Max!” Jane squeals in delight and Max stops to look at her and her breath catches in her throat. Jane is laying there, eyes catching hers with slightly puffed pillowy lips and shoulder length brown hair fanned out on the multi-colored throw pillows on her bed to give character. Her old worn shirt is pushed up to her belly button from Max’s wandering hands and Jane lets out the occasional stifles of laughter every time Max’s hair so much as brushes her tummy. Max kisses the area one last time and moves up, their eyes interlocked in an unsaid competition.

Max watches her, watches Jane as her little quirks come up and puff out their chest like a proud champion. She watches the way Jane’s nose twitches when she’s irritated. She watches the way she looks at clothes when they go shopping, how her eyes sparkle and look like melted chocolate in the dark and honey eyes rimmed with caramel when the light hits them just right. She watches the way, right now, how Jane’s face blooms into a beautiful garden of pink peonies with each push forward Max makes on her. 

“Max?” Her question lingers in the air and forgotten when the lady in question reclaims her girlfriend’s lips once more. A short peck and Max pulls back with a smile, eyes softening at the edges and the glimpse of crows feet rearing its head. 

“I really really like you Jane.”

Jane mouth pulls into a grin and she wraps her slender fingers around Max’s neck, chaining together at the nape. She pulls her closer, noses touching and a whisker away from another kiss. They hold eye contact. Brown and Blue, unwavering and stable. 

“I really really like you too Max.” 

The air between them shifted. It's too hot and too much and too quiet but still not _enough_ and at the same time _just right_. It feels electric and good and comfortable. 

Perfect, as one would say.

And these two don’t get to say that often.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the ending wasn’t too abrupt. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed and please leave a comment, even something as simple as ‘extra kudos’ ! I enjoy reading them, they make my day ♡︎
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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